You know, I used to absolutely hate poetry. Hated reading it, hated writing it, just generally hated everything about it. I was a prose guy, and I thought there was something silly and frivolous about scribbling thoughts into stanzas and trying to get them to scan and rhyme and all that crap.

Then, something changed. Maybe it was getting sober, though I have no idea why that would have any bearing on this. But over the past few years, I’ve found that there are certain instances where I can best put my thoughts in order by taking up quill and scroll and just churning out some of the old doggerel.

Before we go any further, let’s just get this out of the way here and now:

Okay, now that we’ve dispensed with that (yeah), allow me if you will to emote all over you below:

Mare’s Musings

February 18, 2018

I’ll tell you, I had to turn the Olympics off last night. The gay overload with the gay flags and gayness and the gay skier and the all about gay was too much for me. How does being gay have ANYTHING to do with skiing unless you’re purposefully landing on a pole?